Frisky Cat Horne by Mommy / Mommy

It’s been a long journey to get to here. I remember naming “Frisky” when you were a kitten, because unlike your littermates, you were so inquisitive, you had to check everything out personally, getting you into all sorts of situations! Not a “calandar cat,” like your sister was, you captured my heart, nonetheless. Of all the pets I have ever owned or known, you were, by far, the most loving and the most demanding of being loved! So many times, you stood up on your hindlegs so that you could grasp one of our arms to pull it down to you so that the petting could begin! Regardless of the task at hand, after antics like that you had to come first! You kissed me frequently, by touching your nose to mine and often gazed at me intently with those sea green eyes of yours, as if you were searching my soul.

Along the way I came to understand that you were a special angel sent to teach me about unconditional love. Never has a love that I have known felt so pure and innoncent and free of demands.

When you were diagnosed with cancer, we fought it head on and seemed to have won with the first dose of chemo, causing my soul to rejoice. Over the months you endured countless tests and treatments, conquering bone marrow suppression from chloramphenicol to treat a UTI; then, a hospitalization for a multi-drug resistant E. coli UTI; then, the devestating recurrance of the cancer (a non-vaccine-associated spindle cell sarcoma). When the vets felt no treatment would render you a cure, it was difficult to accept, knowing what a fighter you had been, but you were 15 years old and you had endured enough already that without a real chance of cure, we couldn’t put you through more painful and frightful encounters just to prolong the inevitable. A medical doc, myself, I knew how it would go…the tumor of your lip would grow in exponential fashion, eating away at your face and rendering your face distorted and ultimately, painful. It was my hope that a secondary infection or metastatic lesion would take you “naturally,” but I knew that my lifelong aversion to euthansia would be tested out the wazoo. A staunch “right-to-life” and “never-hurt-a-fly” philiosophy had been mine and was one of the reasons that I chose human over veternary medicine. Thus, my choice became to be true to my basic principles and let your face rot away and dope you up on narcotics or to “kill” you intentionally. Obviously, neither choice was appealing to one who loved you so. What else could I do? We tried to manage your pain and you still seemed to have happy times and reasonable quality of life, until it seemed that the discomfort and displeasure (you kept scratching at the tumor as it began to interfere with your vision, causing it to bleed and then licking the blood off your paw and looking at me in bewilderment, as if to say, “Can’t you fix it, Mommy?”)

Last night, you slept (or rather, DIDN’T sleep with me), flopping against me and playfully swatting at my hand as I tried to scratch your tummy and then walking around my head to mew me awake for more games. The love between us was palpable. Then, this morning the scheduled executioner arrived, fifteen precious moments early. Despite my usual strong publicly reserved demeanor, I blubbered all over the guy as the process began…I held you throughout, ever fiber of my being crying out for you not to go, but knowing that you must.

We planned a lovely funeral for you, but as always, time was not on our side, so we had your service in the dark on your grandma’s farm where you were born. We sent balloons heavenward in your honor, reaching toward the stars, followed by our prayers that the gates of heaven be opened for you, since you had done so much to open them for us; for who could not know you, the embodiment of selfless love, and not be changed for the better?

Sure, tonight I’m questioning just where you are, and in my little daughter’s words, “My want my kitty back!” but I cannot believe in a God who loves us without believing that you came directly from Him and are returning to that home today. What is difficult to bear is the wait, however long, here without you. No more will I be greeted with your familiar ankle rub, your quite “Mew” to acknowledge my importance, your comforting presence at the top of the stairs as I go to bed at night and as I get up to face a new day, or your gentle purring and warmth as you lay upon my lap as if it were your rightful throne. I will miss you and I will grieve and I will never, ever forget you.

 

With eternal love,